


miniscule escape

by erdefleur



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 20:50:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13621419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erdefleur/pseuds/erdefleur
Summary: he's like a niche. something he needs between breaths.





	miniscule escape

They taste like dust; Koushi’s own fingers after months of occupying new ruins in the city and the last seen dandelion died in the hands of crying children. It is normal to count the seconds death will come, since it’s almost exclusively prescient and sleep doesn’t come easy. At night, hope is the newest arch enemy; a suffocating dissonance in the catastrophic composition, you don’t live with hope. 

He’s becoming a new person every second; immune to the idea of his old self as the line between what had happened and what he wants blurs into an undeniable singular entity. Stripped down from all the prior human's privileges ever existed; in the end everyone will choose the same thing. 

But the most tangible thing happening in front of him is Tooru’s hums; there’s a smile in his voice as he dismisses the siren warning and proceeds to climb the ruins with his bare hands, which are calloused, strong and calculating, like the blade in his eyes; knowing and erudite.

This whole ordeal is one of those strange moments capable to be born in the most hideous time; and Koushi feels like his last pretzels are having a tantrum in his ribcage. Tooru’s hands are reaching, but it is his smile that is irresistibly palpable, as if they are suddenly eighteen years old again without the addition of bloods and suffering and sorrow, and Koushi has to capitulate his hands with a smile of his own. The siren has stopped after awhile just like everyone has stopped caring to find reasons to wake up every single day.

On the very top, Koushi's feet graze the uneven stones and maybe they'd bruise tomorrow, but he stands beside tooru nonetheless, and his eyes are steady, gazing something far ahead. Under the never coming dawn and the dying stars, Tooru's whistle ricochets in the gloomy darkness, and then he laughs, light and soft that the lines under his eyes turn into a blur of something real. It is almost like a niche; something utterly vulnerable yet as real, and if anything---anything ever counts, Koushi thinks maybe Tooru is his privilege

**Author's Note:**

> i watched trump one night and suddenly wrote this.


End file.
